I'm sitting quietly at Starbucks, killing some time before meeting with my career coach to review my first week at work and discuss my next steps for building my network. The first rule of job hunting is never and let your network die. That means e-mail people you don't need anymore, e-mailing people who don't want you anymore, and keeping yourself relevant as ever shifting world over recruiters, headhunters, overburdened HR people, and hiring managers who only want to talk to one good candidate.

At a table three chairs over, pretty, slightly older brunette talks to a real estate agent about refinancing her mortgage.She fiddles with her wedding ring in a way that suggests he finds this gentleman attractive, but I've actually met him and he is a bit of a dick. He's good-looking, and if he wasn't such a dick, he might make a play for her. You won't, because she's too old, she must be 45, and at the last Chamber event I saw him with some young hottie who was obviously a rental, and not a day over 24.

With my first week at work finished, I have a long holiday because Columbus Day is on Monday and it’s a bank holiday.Yes, I now work for a bank, at least for a few months. It's the only holiday that we will get where the kids don't get off from school at the same time. I'm hoping to buy some more new clothes so I can look nice in business casual.

The woman talking to the agent has sunglasses up on the top of her head, long brown hair and a pretty smile which makes her very attractive. She sits and laughs, trying to make a connection to this slick number-cruncher who’s trying to sell her into a bigger mortgage. I get the sense she doesn't want to increase her loan, but he's talking about the rates, payments, and plans and it's obvious he's not listening to her.

People really don't listen most of the time. We take turns making speeches. The sounds just drift past each other like to low-riders with speakers blasting going up and down the street, passing each other, but never enjoying the other car’s music. She has a nice figure, but her body language is growing more and more distant. Not only is he about to lose the sale, he's about to lose any shot with this beautiful, but I would guess lonely, married woman. She gave me two big smiles when I walked in, ordered my drink, then set down. I thought about pulling the classic move, You know, staring at her, smiling, then pushing the chair out on the other side of the table invited her to sit down.

If she would've come over I would've stood, introduced myself, shook her head, and invited her to join me. She would move her chair in close so we could hear each other over the noise or coffee grinders,, blenders, and frapamochchinos. After a couple of minutes her foot comes up and rests on my knee.She's kicked her shoe off and I take her foot in my hand and begin to gently rub the sole. She scoots closer, shifts her hips towards the edge of the chair, and leans her head back on the dark leather of the chair.

"I am putty in your hands when you do that."

"I was hoping so."

It doesn't take long before her foot was on my thigh then resting gently against the stiff denim of my new Levi's.

"What's this?" She asks, giggling as she realizes that her big toe is on my hard cock.

"Yes," I say, "I am happy to see you."

I push the table toward her, scooting my chair closer so she can get better access to my growing cock with her foot. The ball of her foot rubs up and down my jeans and I wish I was wearing slacks, with thinner softer material and less of a seam to grind into the tender engorged skin.

"Tell me something intimate." She says

"Something sexy? "I asked.

"No," she said, “Something intimate. I want to know if you know the difference."

"In three days it is the anniversary of my mother's death, and I miss her every day, especially when I hear the Broadway music ." My eyes got misty, without trying, "I wish my daughters had known her."

The heel of her foot pressed against my sac as the length of her foot rested against my cock. She gently stroked me up and down, her toes curling around the head as much as they could through the fabric. She looked at me and slipped a hand of inside her blouse and subtly caressed her breast once.